


Follow Me Down

by makingitwork



Series: Stalker Hotch [1]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Bottom Reid, Dom sub, Gun play, Hotch-unsub, M/M, Masturbation, Sex, Sleep Sex, Spencer-victim, Stalker, Toys, Undressing, all consensual, dildo, dubious though, talks of bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-22 02:00:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1571906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hotch wants Reid.</p><p>He gets him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Follow Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> I read another fic like this, called 'Hunter' give it a try! I loved the idea...  
> x

Spencer wakes up in a happy, soft sort of mood.

Stretching once, rotating his wrists and his ankles before swinging his legs out of bed. And that's when he looks down at himself. His matching pyjamas...his baby blue cotton shirt...all the buttons have been undone, and his pants are around his knees. He knows the signs. Aaron Hotchner was in his bedroom last night. His stalker. Spencer swallowed, pulling up his trousers and redoing the buttons, before dutifully checking the windows and doors, but he knew they'd all be locked.

He went to the kitchen, to see his breakfast made. Alarming for two reasons. One, it was still hot, which meant a number of things, and secondly...he was already wolfing it down. With his job, he didn't get time to make breakfast, so when fried eggs, sunny side up, baked beans, toast dripping with butter cut into triangles, sizzling bacon and sausages and a cold glass of orange juice waiting for him...it's his favourite. And he'll eat it. His mother always said he was too thin. He practically licks the plate clean before sighing "I'll probably have to tell the team about this,"

But he knows they won't find anything. They'll snap at him for eating the breakfast, but he knows it's poisoned. Aaron's had every chance to kill him, "It won't be by lacing toast with cyanide." He laughs to himself, wondering when he became so morbid. Before turning and heading for a nice, hot, long shower, because he doesn't know if Aaron's touched him. He curses himself for being such a deep sleeper, but then wonders what he'd do if he woke up in the middle of it. He's woken up with dried cum on his stomach, but never in his ass, he's grateful, and stupefied by that. 

...

Aaron Hotchner watches the monitors, all the secret cameras in Spencer's apartment, watches him eat the breakfast, and smiles to himself. He remembers when Spencer used to throw everything he made away, and then scrub the dishes if not even throw them out. He remembers when he'd scrub at his skin in the shower, but now, he just lathers himself with soap, like normal. He's adapted, just like Hotch knew he would. Perfect. Pliable. 

...

When Spencer gets a drug problem, he wakes up one morning, to find all the Dilaudide he'd been hoarding gone. And a note, saying 'You don't need it' 

It's enough to reduce Spencer to tears, right there in his living room, dragging down the wall and clutching his knees to his chest as he sobs. "Thank you," he cries to his apartment, knowing that Aaron can hear him, can see him, through the cameras, but what's the point in getting rid of them when the next night, they're there again? "I hate you so much, but...thank you,"

The next morning, breakfast is ready.

...

It's when Spencer get's the box.

Inside it is a dildo, thick, long, lined with ridges, along with a bottle of lube. The only instruction is, 'Do it in the living room' Spencer can only assume that Aaron has the best view of him there.

He doesn't know why he does it. But two days later, he finds himself stripping down in the living room, lubing himself up, and penetrating himself. He doesn't know when discomfort turns to pleasure, but he remembers feeling like a whore, and just not caring, as he pumps the thick ridged fake member in and out of himself, he comes all over the floor, and then falls asleep there, completely content.

Hotch steps forward out of the shadows, behind the curtains, admiring his sleeping love. The dildo is still half impaled in his ass, and Hotch leans down carefully, twisting it slightly, watching Spencer twitch and moan in unaltered arousal. Hotch makes him come three times that night, and swallows all of it. He then carries Spencer to his bed, after ejaculating all over his beautiful face. 

...

Spencer knows it all has to come to an end, but now, nearly two years after it started, he's completely unsure how. 

So when he hears the noise in his apartment as he steps inside from a hard day at work, he has his gun out, ready.

And out he steps.

Aaron Hotchner, he's perfect, Spencer realises, tall, strong, stern yet kind, with strong features. Well built, with black hair and vivid green eyes. Clean shaven, doesn't look like an obsessive stalker. But then Spencer reasons- who does? Aaron takes him in too, oh of course, he's seen more of Spencer than anyone else, but now he's seeing him, seeing him. Spencer's in his purple shirt and sweater vest, blue jeans, and holster. Hair a tousled artful mess on his head, flopping down into his eyes. Hotch can remember the rage he'd had when Spencer cut it into the boy band hair style.

He'd killed three people, before realising that it suited Spencer.

He just hates change, like all stalkers do. 

"Spencer," Hotch smiles "Beautiful, put the gun down, wouldn't want you to get hurt."

"Aaron," Spencer says quietly, hands steady "I need you to get on your knees, put your hands behind your head, and let me handcuff you,"

"Please," Aaron rolled his eyes "I'd get on my knees for you Spencer, to suck you off. And handcuffs? I'd handcuff you."

"I'm going to phone the police." Spencer says steadily, taking out his phone with his free hand, eyes never leaving Aaron's despite the hot pink flush that's rushing up his neck. "I want you to stay where you are."

"Spencer," Hotch says again, voice firm "I want you to put that gun in your mouth and suck it."

Spencer blanches, not expecting that, and Hotch is across the room, knocking the phone out of his hand and slamming Spencer into the wall, taking his gun, and forcing it into the lithe mans throat. Spencer struggles, bless him, but he's no match. He's never been a match. 

"Suck it." Hotch orders, all traces of teasing and games gone. So Spencer does what he says, because what choice does he have? He sucks almost eagerly, swirling his tongue over the opening, it takes of metal and gun powder, but he can feel himself stirring in his jeans. Hotch can too, because he smiles, kissing Spencer's neck, keeping the gun in his mouth, his free hand unbuckles Spencer's jeans, and they fall to the floor, next his underwear, and his cock is straining against his stomach. Hotch removes the gun from Reid's mouth, and positions it at his ass hole.

Spencer moans at the thought, leaking precum, and Hotch shakes his head in near disbelief "I've known you for so long now, Spencer...and I still forget how perfect you are for me." He pushes the barrel of the gun into Spencer, who's knees buckle, so he inadvertently impales himself further onto the gun. All too soon, he's moaning, picking up onto it, not even fearing that Hotch could pull the trigger and kill him. 

He comes hard as soon as he consciously feels Hotch's mouth onto his tip for the first time, and Hotch swallows, a gentle, reminding hand on his bony hip, telling him without words to stay flush to the wall. He stands up, licking his lips as Spencer whines. "Pack your stuff Spencer, we're going home."

Spencer pulls up his jeans, grabbing his suitcase and throwing in the only other pair of shoes he owns, along with his ties, sweater vests, shirts and jeans. "Where are we going?" He asked breathlessly, as he sees Hotch tuck his gun into his own belt "I know we're going...home...b-but where is that?"

"Greece," Hotch smiles at his look of bewilderment "You mentioned once, to Morgan I think, that you'd always wanted to go to Athens, you liked the mythology and culture."

It makes Spencer wince when Hotch uses Morgan's name, and he can remember the conversation...that took place in the office. It just asserts the lack of power he has. "So you have...passports and everything?" Hotch smirks at him, as though amused, and Spencer zips up his suitcase, tugging on his black coat after a look at the rain outside, he fumbles with his purple scarf and Hotch arches an eyebrow

"You seem nervous."

"Do I?" Spencer asks in a voice too high, placing his suitcase on the sofa, before looking around at all his books, and rushing to grab them too. Hotch rolls his eyes 

"Yeah you do." Hotch leans against the door, watching Spencer pull out about 15 books, completely different genres "What can I do to you, Spencer," Hotch begins gently, to ease his nerves "That I haven't already?"

Spencer can't argue with that, before slinging his satchel over his shoulder, and picking up his suitcase. He stands, looking up at Hotch, before swallowing thickly, unable to stop his voice from cracking "I didn't get to say goodbye, to...to everyone,"

Hotch strokes his knuckles down Spencer's jaw, eyes blazing "I've waited too long for you Spencer. I understand, and I'll let you write letters to them. But you are mine. And not theirs. Do you know how difficult it was for me to not slash Morgan's throat when he kissed you?"

"We were drunk," Spencer says quietly, but Hotch just stares at him, and Spencer nods, following him out of the apartment, the town, the city, the country, the continent. 

And he wonders why he doesn't feel scared.

But rather nervous, the good kind, like butterflies with his stomach. 

That have been waiting to escape for a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Do you really like it?  
> x


End file.
